


COOL HEAD, WARM HOUSE, HOT SEX

by orphan_account



Series: Comfort Zone [2]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:50:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telling it like it is</p>
            </blockquote>





	COOL HEAD, WARM HOUSE, HOT SEX

COOL HEAD, WARM HOUSE, HOT SEX

 

 

Mercy was the first to move. “Come on!” Stumbling out on her high heels she ran to the waiting cab.

“What’s the hurry? Fraid they’ll get started without you being there to gawp?” Jacqui, conscious of her dignity, stepped carefully over the treacherous flagged path. She’d lost a heel on this path last year and had come close to losing a lot more – her status as the cool one of the family - when she’d turned an ankle and nearly gone arse over teakettle only the other day, well night really, when she’d had a little too much to drink at Tony’s and had insisted on walking home – by herself.

“We’ll miss the train!” Tina wailed, pushing Dom into the taxi before her.

That’s my girl, show him who’s boss. She might give the appearance of being the mild one of the family but like all of them you had only to make a scratch in the surface and the true McQueen nature would be revealed. That went for little John Paul too. The way he’d laid into that bastard Jake Dean – well she only wished she’d been there to witness it firsthand. Laying into her brother - well they’d just see about that. Laying into his own? Well that put him firmly and irrevocably on the ‘to be taken care of’ list despite what her baby brother thought. Craig was one of them now and no way was anyone, she didn’t care who, going to bash him and get away with it.

Of course she wouldn’t let on to John Paul, who would, obviously then let on to Craig (she’d have to impart a few words of wisdom to her little brother about the keeping of secrets – yeah even from the one who shared your pillow – especially from the one who shared your pillow) but Jake would get a knee in the crotch that would ensure that that little kid of his would be the only sprog he’d EVER father.

Oh great, here came her ‘husband’. What Carmel saw in the wet idiot she had no clue, but she didn’t much care either – at least she could go about her own business without feeling any sort of pressure from the twat. Okay he was pretty harmless, but she’d been saddled with him along with a whole pile of stress and was reminded of that fact every time she saw his pathetic eyes asking her why she ‘must be so rude’. Because you’re a twat she wanted to tell him, who reminds me every day how vulnerable I am, reminds me of the past I’m doing my best to pretend never happened. How’s that for starters? “Carm, come on. No, we’re going in this one. Alek, Russ, mum and Michaela are in the other. Come on.” She took her sister by the hand and pulled. If she didn’t do that then the silly cow would probably stand there all night making cow eyes at the twat.

Carmel in love was an even bigger prat than Carmel just being Carmel. And that, that was _really_ saying something.

“Okay, Jacqui, I’m coming, no need to drag me.”

“Out.” She took hold of Dom’s sleeve and pulled. “In the front with the boys, mate. Unless you _want_ to be with the girlies.”

“Jacqui.” Tina with the warning voice. For some reason she generally held back with both Tina and John Paul, maybe because, when all was said and done, they _were_ different from the others.

“Look, Teen, he’d be much more comfy in the front, wouldn’t you Dom? There you go.” She gave him an encouraging push in the direction of the front passenger seat, then took the seat he’d vacated. “Drowning in cheap perfume – wouldn’t want that would we Dom?”

“Er _you_ might be wearing cheap perfume but I’m not.” Mercedes’ snootily offended expression needed work – a lot of work.

“Just cos it _says_ Chanel on the label, chances are that if you buy it off a bloke in the market it will actually be –” She took a sniff of Mercedes’ neck, made a face “cheap, well cheap perfume. Eau de Cat’s Piss would be my guess.”

“You’re joking. They actually called a perfume that? I don’t think that’s a very good name. It sounds like, well it reminds me of-“

“I bought it from Boots and if anyone’s cheap it would be you.” Mercedes flicked a disdainful finger that made Jacqui’s earring spin.

“Fuck off.”

“Now, now ladies.” Dom had turned to them, wagging an admonishing finger but when confronted by Mercedes and Jacqui’s twin stares of disdain turned to face the road.

How could someone who had the same fucking parents as her man be such a complete wet waste of flippin space? 

 

 

 

**

 

Somehow the others had managed to get to the station before them.

At first she couldn’t see John Paul or Craig then saw them – were they trying to hide – near one of the pillars a little way away from the main group. “Oi you two.” She thought about whistling but clocked her mum’s face and contented herself instead with a wide legged stance and a stern look. “Stay with the group; wouldn’t want my tits in the wringer cos we lost sight of you and accidentally got on the train without you. Sharon may be a pipsqueak but she packs quite a punch. Oi Craig, come on.” When he came, John Paul obviously only just resisting the urge to put a protective, sheltering arm around him, practically  _glued_ to his side she grabbed him and pulled him into the midst of the ‘group’. She ignored the bristling John Paul whose lovely blue eyes were right now like chips of ice. He had a temper true enough, but he also had a sense of place and would never make a public spectacle of Craig. The others were fair game, of course. She wasn’t a fool: Craig was hostage-cum-bargaining chip: keep Craig in the very centre of the melee and John Paul would be docile as a little lamb.

“Now Craig, you make sure our John Paul behaves himself. No sex on the kitchen floor, no screaming so loud the neighbours start switching on lights, opening doors, calling the coppers. Oh hold on, no that was _you_ wasn’t it?”

Like the McQueens they were the others, scenting blood, moved in to be in at the kill and if there were a chance to make it that much messier by the addition of their own unique contributions well ...

“I didn’t know where to put meself. I were about to call coppers meself.”

“I woke up too. Me first thought was ‘Someone’s eating Craig’s sausage!’.”

“Mum!”

“What? It sounded like he were being murdered.”

“No stop it. John Paul take no notice.” Carmel linked her arm in his. “Still, it did sound-” Her eyes widened. “ _Were_ you eating his sausage?” She gave a little shudder. “I will _never_ look-”

The announcer chose that moment to announce the arrival of the next train, which thankfully happened to be theirs.

When John Paul tried to snatch Craig back from the ‘group’ he was thwarted – expertly – and with this, the major threat, rendered impotent Craig became, essentially, theirs...

 

**

 

 

“Budge up a bit.” Craig had had no choice but to take the window seat and was sat there now like a frightened rabbit. She slapped him on the thigh. “Hey come on, never been on a train before?” She saw the retort in his eyes, but no, not yet, give him a month or two though and he’d be firing off the cheeky retorts so reminiscent of her beloved brother. Face it, John Paul was a bad, bad influence.

“What do you think to Liverpool then, Craig?”

He shrugged, not knowing where to look what between Mercy’s hard brown stare and her mum’s fond smile. They’d found an empty fourseater and shoved him in the window seat, Jacqui beside him, Mercy and Myra opposite. The others had had to find seats where they could: the train was packed. She’d had to dissuade John Paul from sitting the poor bugger on his lap, had shrugged away his whispered threats. Dom and Russ had had to drag him away...

She’d ignored the constant stream of texts and calls....

“Well I don’t know the city very well. I was only there briefly-“

“Get him! Swallowed sommat you shouldn’t have? On second thoughts don’t answer that one.”

“Shut up you.” She gave her sister a hard look. “Take no notice.” She smiled at him. “You think you’ll like living here, Craig?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t-“

“As long as I’m with John Paul I can live anywhere.”

A quick glance exchanged with her sister who rolled her eyes.

“Oh Craig that is lovely. Our John Paul’s really lucky to have you.”

Well no  _he_ was the lucky one. There was nothing John Paul wouldn’t do for this one – she recognised all the signs.

“And you’re gonna be alright all by yourselves in Dundee.”

“Dublin.”

“Yeah.” She held his gaze. He didn’t look away. “A bit young to be going away, in a new relationship – first one for you isn’t it?”

“First what, relationship? No. First time being in love? Yeah.”

Ooh, feisty. “John Paul’s always been very choosy – bit of a loner – not many crushes or anything like. Hannah was his first.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even know if he really knows what he is.”

“He’s pretty sure he’s gay.”

Her look hardened. “And you? What are you?”

“Does it matter?”

Mercy snorted. “You bet it does. I wanna know if I can walk around the house in just me undies and not get perved on or whether or not I can let me fella walk around in  _his_ skivvies without ‘someone’ perving on him.”

“Russ isn’t my type.”

“Why does no-one want my bloody fella?”

“Put a sock in it a minute can’t you?” She hadn’t once broken eye contact with Craig, now she put her head to one side: “What is your type?”

He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”

“No, boys and girls – any boy, any girl - pretty much fit the bill for you don’t they?”

Another very casual shrug. It was funny but the longer the interrogation had gone on the more comfortable and relaxed he seemed to be feeling, almost as though these were questions he was comfortable answering. “Well obviously not but if you mean am I exclusively attracted to men then no, I haven’t been in the past. Clearly I’m not exclusively attracted to women.”

Clever. Very clever. Yet she kept the smile contained: much too soon to let him off the hook. Besides he was far too much fun to play with to let go of  _just_ yet.

A familiar trill – his mobile. “Excuse me.” He fished the phone from his pocket.

Damn! She obviously couldn’t take it from him but that had been a serious tactical error.

She saw the laughter in his eyes as he stood, a patently insincere apology on his lips. “Sorry, John Paul wants to see me. Excuse me.”

She conceded defeat for the moment as she moved to let him past. “Later, Craig.”

He smiled in acknowledgement that the ‘game’ was far from over then disappeared down the aisle.

Mercy was looking bored, arms folded, mouth set in a familiar sulk. 

Her mum looked amused. “Told you he were a clever one. Stop giving him such a hard time, Jacq, you know he’s kosher.”

Like her mum didn’t relish the teasing as much as any of them. “Yeah well. No harm pushing him a bit. He’s too sure of himself by far.” She sat back, arms folded in a mirror of her sister opposite. “God, John Paul needs to play a _little_ hard to get. We girls need to give him a good talking to.”

“Now, now, madam, you’ll do no such thing. And you can get that expression off your mug too. They’re fine; I like it that they’re so all over each other – I think it’s cute.”

Again the exchanged glance with her sister. Was this really the woman who gave birth to them? Maybe they were both cuckoos in the nest. “I think John Paul needs to stop making it so damn obvious is what I think.”

“Craig’s as obvious.”

“Craig’s not a McQueen.”

Their mother cackled and maybe she’d developed psychic powers in the last few minutes or something because she just  _knew_ what was coming even before her mum said: “Well give it time, give it time. You heard of them Civil Partnerships? Maybe our John Paul will be the next one of me kids to walk up the aisle.”

She thanked all that was holy and all that was not that it was Mercy who had the ‘privilege’ of sitting beside her mum and thus the one who got the elbow in the ribs...

 

 

**

 

John Paul kept Craig by his side and never let him out of his sight, shooting ‘I am going to kill you’ looks at her whenever their eyes met or even when she was just looking elsewhere, minding her own. She’d feel the shard of his gaze in her back like a knife with blade white hot with fury, turn and smile, knowing that so long as they were in public and Craig by his side she was safe. She’d even blown him a kiss at one point, which might, just might have been a mistake.

John Paul really did have a rotten temper and wouldn’t hold back forever – he was a McQueen – he never let  _anything_ go...

The journey to the house was a short one.

A not very interesting, inner city area with lots of concrete and very few trees.

The house was lit up, music blaring, a group of people hanging on the gate as they pulled up.

“Maid of honour first,” she said, linking arms first with John Paul and then Craig. “Alright lads?” Not expecting a reply she was not put out when this was greeted by silence though Craig did smile a little. “Let’s go and get this house warmed up!”

 

 

**

 

The house was a lot bigger on the inside than it had looked at first glance – the rooms generous and well designed. She could still smell paint and new carpet even through the fug of cigarette smoke, weed and perfume. “Nice,” she pronounced, looking up the long flight of stairs. “3 beds? Wouldn’t mind this one meself.”

“Yeah well, Sharon doesn’t want her house made a den for thieves and drug addicted prossies, so I’d say _that_ was off the fucking menu for the foreseeable future. Come on Craig.”

Oh well, he’d come round in time. Once he’d given her a bollicking. She could wait. For now there were far more important things to consider. She was in the middle of a party and hadn’t even had a sniff of booze yet.

 

 

**

Michaela was trying to ignore her, clearly enjoying being chatted up by a couple of truly disreputable looking guys who looked to her like representatives of the local chapter of gatecrashers r us. Sharon knew a lot of people, from all walks of life, but she was very firm when it came to any kind of hard drug use and made no secret of the fact that she utterly detested pimps. These two looked like they were familiar with both those aspects of life and any minute now they were going to get their heads kicked in – either by her or by Sharon’s mates when they clocked them.

Of course it should be Michaela’s brothers in law that were sorting all that, but Dom, Alek? Well Russ wasn’t useless, but he should expect back up from the other McQueen men, except there weren’t any other McQueen men here. John Paul was the only McQueen man there and he was busy inhaling Craig’s tonsils. She’d watched fascinated for a while, wondering if John Paul actually intended to swallow Craig’s tongue before shaking her head in despair and going in search of more booze.

It was so weird seeing her little brother like that – so besotted and yet so utterly unselfconscious about it. He’d always been  _incredibly_ self-conscious about stuff like that, genuinely hating any overt display of affection from them, especially in public. Always sympathetic whenever they’d gone through the usual man trouble yet clearly he hadn’t really understood, not having been there himself. He’d never been interested in girls, but to be fair hadn’t shown interest in boys either – until Craig. She’d sussed that Craig was the one a while back just for that reason – the way John Paul was  _so_ interested in this boy. It was as though he’d woken from a lifelong slumber, the scales dropping from his eyes in the process, allowing him to finally, finally see - Craig. He  _never_ talked about Craig yet whenever Craig was around he was a man totally, totally focused – on Craig – doing everything that wasn’t related to Craig on auto pilot.

That he thought he was fooling them, that they hadn’t sussed it about him and Craig a long time back was a source of serious amusement – they’d laughed about it many, many times; watching the two of them casually saying they were going up to listen to music or revise. Yeah right. As though mum would suss it before any of them. She’d been the last one to suss it, the double bed Carmel’s idea when Myra had broken it to them – that she’d caught Craig in bed with John Paul. She’d been shocked when she realised that they knew – that even Michaela knew – and had once again gone into the why didn’t anyone tell rant me until she realised that it wasn’t that anyone was keeping secrets but that she was the one being wilfully blind. After talking to the boys though she’d told them that she thought it was better to let them think she was the only one who knew – didn’t want them to get self-conscious. Of course Mercy had said that  _she_ bloody well wanted them to get self conscious then maybe they wouldn’t have to put up with all the moaning and groaning every night. She’d been told to shut her gob.

Craig... At first she hadn’t been sure, but when she’d got over the fact he was Frankie Osbourne’s kid had actually started to warm to him. He was so easy going, not taking any offence at the rough McQueen ways, fitting in like a long lost cousin or brother, but still being careful to not take liberties. She didn’t know if it was natural instinct or just that very clever brain of his but he never put a foot wrong with them, effortlessly winning heir hearts – even bloody Mercedes, hard-hearted bitch that she was.

“Y’alright Jacq?” Sharon had come up behind her, squeezed her by the waist.

“You know those two?” She indicated the guys all over Michaela.

“No, never seen ‘em before and this party is invite only. Okay Jacq, you get Michaela. I’ll get those two sorted.”

Jacqui gave a nod of satisfaction, walked up, took her younger sister by the arm and dragged her away.

“Hey what do you think you’re doing. I was enjoying myself.”

“How old are you?”

“You know how old I am.”

“Exactly. I know that at your age common sense is like the dodo – nowhere to be fucking seen. Shut it. See I know this Michaela because everyone, everyone here, including our Carmel, could suss that those two were as kosher as an Irish side of beef. Tell me; do they really look like the type Auntie Sharon would invite to her house?”

“They’re alright.”

“No, Michaela they’re not, they’re not fucking ‘alright’. Get up them stairs. You and I need to talk.”

“No, why should I, it’s a party I’m-“

“Okay I’ll get Auntie Sharon to arrange for you to get a lift back, but since you can’t go by yourself we’d all have to go – all of us, including Mercedes, including mum and yeah John Paul would probably need to leave the party - _leave Craig_ \- to come back with us too...” Yeah, that’s what she thought. Michaela almost crying with the petulant indignation of a 3-year-old kid denied a toy stomped up the stairs. Jacqui followed her.

 

 

**

Nice spacious bedrooms – three: two double, one single. The lads could kip in the single. That decided she made her way back downstairs to see what the rest of her family were up to.

She knew most of the people here – Sharon had a lot of friends though and some were new to her. Black, white, Asian, Chinese; gay straight, well-heeled, unemployed – Sharon knew them all and here they all were enjoying John Paul and Craig’s house warming.

Standing at the door of the back lounge she watched for a while. Dom proved himself to be a surprisingly good mover – he couldn’t have learned that from Tina – when it came to a sense of rhythm Tina was more white than any of them, including John Paul. Mercedes was dancing with a guy she’d slept with off and on for years, Russ sipping from a can watching them. Alek and Carmel were slow dancing, cheek to cheek. It was quite sweet she supposed – two idiots in love. Sharon was dancing, hair in disarray, Jacqui was guessing from the exertion of removing the two local louts (Sharon was tiny, about 4’ 11in her stockinged feet and slight with it. From the back she looked like a girl. But Jesus fucking Christ did she make up for it by sheer force of personality and voice, mustn’t forget the voice. Sharon made Mercedes sound like an angelic soprano). She’d obviously had help removing them but she did like to get all hands on did Sharon. She was dancing with Myra, slow dancing like friends who’d known each other all their lives, close as sisters. Jacqui smiled to herself. She wasn’t at all convinced that her mum even clocked that Sharon was a lesbian. She wasn’t exactly out and proud in that way, Sharon, the sort who kept her private life very private. She’d probably introduced Lesley, her long time partner to Myra assuming she’d know they were lovers and maybe she did, but she also knew her mum – ever so blind about certain things. She didn’t even realise that a lot of Sharon’s friends were gay men, making remarks to the rest of the family that gave her ignorance away. It wouldn’t change the way she saw Sharon at all of course and of course she probably _did_ know, but the thing is mum never made a joke of Sharon’s sexuality and if she’d known she bloody well would have...

It took a lot of peering and craning of neck before she spotted John Paul. He was with Craig (and wasn’t  _that_ a fucking surprise) against the far wall, facing her, well ostensibly facing her, but every part of him, every fibre, particle, atom bent on the man at his side. She had no trouble seeing Craig – his face was that close to John Paul’s she’d have had to have been suffering from some weird visual impairment  _not_ to have seen it. They weren’t quite kissing, no something a  _lot_ more sickening, their feelings so much on display she was ashamed to share the same name with John Paul. Right...

She grabbed Mercedes. “You’re dancing with Craig,” before making her way over to the ‘display’. Craig, smiling at something John Paul was whispering in his ear was the first to spot them. She was on them before he could protest, grabbing him and thrusting him at the waiting predator also known as her bitch of a sister. John Paul she held against the wall, moving to the music, hands under his elbow in a parody of dancing. “Hiya, JP.” He hated when they called him this, sensible enough to interpret it as a signal that presaged teasing of a kind most people  _never_ had to endure. “How about giving your big sis a chance to dance with her little brother for the last time?”

“I haven’t danced with you since I were seven and you bashed me for stepping on your feet.” His eyes were fixed on something behind her – Craig, no doubt. Poor, poor bastard.

She trod hard on his left foot, just to get him paying attention. “There, now we’re even.”

His eyes were icy. What a temper the boy had, no idea where he got it from. “Not quite – now I need to bash you.  _Then_ we’ll be even.”

She grinned, kissed him on the cheek. He could never stay mad at them when they kissed him. “Okay, you bash me then. Come on.”

“Oh shut up, Jacq.” He sighed, caved. “What do you want?”

“I told you – a last dance with me baby brother before he steps out into the big wide world for the first time.”

“For your information I am not a baby and I’ve been out in the big wide world for quite a while. Not surprised you haven’t noticed, but I’m all grown up now, sis.”

“Because you’re sucking cock? Let me tell you something.” She held his chin, looked into his eyes. “Sucking cock doesn’t make you a grown up, fucking doesn’t make you a grown up. Do you understand? Don’t care what you think – being a grown up requires a lot more than that.” She let him pull his head away, but kept him trapped in the tractor beam of her stare.

“Jacqui, I don’t need the talk – I don’t. I already had it from mum.”

She snorted. “Mum. Look John Paul, mum doesn’t have a clue – she loves Craig, is over the moon that he’s officially part of the family. She was never going to object to you and him.”

“But let me guess – you do.”

“I have my reservations, yeah.”

“Because?”

“John Paul.” She sighed. “You are a novice when it comes to this sort of thing. You have no idea how much you can hurt when it all goes wrong; how hard it is when they do things that upset you, make you feel like you’re nothing and yet you still can’t help loving them.”

“Jacq, I know, I know. Okay I know I’m only 18 and I know you think I’ve got stars in my eyes when it comes to Craig, that I think him and me are like something out of a fairy tale. You’re wrong. Craig’s hurt me – you have no bloody idea how much he’s hurt me and no, I can’t stop loving him but I thought that’s what love was about – not giving up when the going gets tough, because no matter what, you know they’re worth it. Jacq, Craig is worth it – every piece of heartache, every blow to the heart, each thrust of the knife into my heart. I love him; up down, backwards, forwards, every way you can imagine it. The sex doesn’t matter – if I never had sex with him ever again it wouldn’t stop me loving him exactly as I love him now. I fell in love with Craig _long_ before I knew I wanted to have sex with him. The sex is just icing on the cake.” He laughed. “Jacq he makes me so happy, I feel like I’m walking on cloud nine all day long. And I know all the pitfalls, all the ways it could go wrong, but Jacq,” He put a hand on either side of her temples, used his thumbs to brush the loose strands of hair back. “It will never be because he used to sleep with women. I am sure of that. I’m also sure that it won’t be through any kind of infidelity. We talk, we talk all the fucking time – we have no secrets, we’ve laid it on the line and I’m sure of him – absolutely sure. Now I get that I can’t make _you_ as sure of either him or me, but Jacq I hate that you fret about me so much.” He shook her. “When you have no flippin need. Be happy for me – I’m in love, found the perfect person for me and there is not a second of the day when I’m not fucking ecstatic about that. He is the love of my life and I want you to love him – well you couldn’t possibly love him as much as me, so scratch that. But I want you to stop giving him a hard time. He doesn’t mind, but Jacq, I do. I really, really mind, so please, for me, let him be. Give him a hard time about everything else – we all get it in the neck, no reason he should get off scot free – but not about us, never about his ‘intentions’ toward me, whether he’s good enough for me. It _hurts_ me, okay?”

They stared at each other, the connection they’d always had ever since she’d touched the new born beloved brother and the blue eyes had opened and looked at her – the first person he’d truly focused on – palpable. When she opened her arms, with a sigh, he came to her.

 

 

**

 

 

“Oh what? I am _not_ sleeping with my bloody mother.”

“Okay you can bunk in with me and Mercy then. Would you prefer that, Michaela? Yeah that’s what I thought. Okay so that’s Chaela, mum, Sharon and Teen in the big bedroom; me, Mercy and Carm in this one and the lads all bunk in the little one. Shut up, you like camping, don’t you Russ, well there you go then. And Alek you’re from Albania-“

“Yes but I do not see what that has-“

“Oh actually, John Paul you bunk with us for tonight. Right mum, Sharon, Teen and Chaela first in the bathroom, then our room and then you lot.”

“Wouldn’t it be better for the lads to use the bathroom first – you girls do tend to take-“ Russ sensibly declined to complete the sentence. “Good idea, we’ll just wait in our room. Come on lads.” He, Alek and Dom sidled off to the far end of the passage. Craig didn’t follow, stood there, looking just a little sheepish.

Well John Paul hadn’t vetoed teasing – ordinary teasing – had, in fact, given her carte blanche. “What is it love, not sure if you’re Arthur or Martha? The lads – that a way.” She helped him along with a gentle – for her - push in the right direction.

“Er I just need to talk to John Paul for a minute.”

“Well so long as you keep the ‘talking’ to a whisper this time.”

“Er...” He approached John Paul, eyes darting about like a man who’d just woken up to find himself naked on stage, all the lights trained on him. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

They stood staring at each other.

“Oh for- Kiss him! We all know that’s what you want to do.”

“But no tongues. No need to make me bring up me dinner.”

“Or me.”

The two of them stood for a few seconds longer, still staring into each other’s eyes then Craig leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. 

The ensuing derisive laughter had the ‘lads’ room’ door opening and Dom and Russ’s head popping out, one above the other. “What?”

“Craig just kissed John Paul the way I kiss my nanna.”

“Oh. Well, okay. Goodnight.” The door closed with almost comical haste, Dom only just moving his head back in time to prevent it being squeezed between door and frame.

“Now Craig, we all know you can do better than that. This is my little boy here, me gorgeous little boy. Peck on the cheek? Not likely.”

“Maybe he can’t perform without music.”

“I’ve got some CDs in me bag!”

“Sharon maybe you’d better- Ah...”

Craig had moved into John Paul’s arms and started kissing him – in a way that no-one (well maybe denizens of the Appalachian Mountains) would kiss their nanna.

She was surprised, really – neither of these guys seemed like the public displays of affection type and this was a full on display of affection. God had she ever been kissed like that –with everything, everything out there for all to see?

Maybe her mum had been right, maybe John Paul  _was_ lucky to have him.

Looking at the faces of her sisters she saw similar emotions on display– Carmel looked like she was about to blub, silly cow.

Clearing her throat she put a hand on Craig’s arm and pulled him back. “Okay, I think we get the picture. Now off you go. Lads – that a way.”

They all watched him go, John Paul included, all waving as one – how about  _that_ for hive mind – when he turned just before shutting the door. Poor bastard had probably only expected John Paul to be looking at him. She saw the brown eyes widen briefly as he disappeared behind the door.

There was a long silence while they all stared at the only male in their midst.

His mouth was wet, eyes shining. “What?”

“I never thought it’d be you who’d let down the family name, John Paul,” she tut-tutted. “Next thing you’ll be asking him to marry you.”

“Don’t be daft.” But she saw the blush. You could probably have clocked the blush on a ship several miles out at sea on a foggy night. “And where am I sleeping anyway? I am not sharing a bed with any of you lot.”

“Like we’d want to. Oh come on, you lot. I want me bed!”

 

 

**

She’d woken to a raging thirst – and heat and noise. Mercedes was draped over her, Carmel not far off, both of them snoring to beat the band. Irritably she pushed away from her sisters’ entangling limbs and stumbled to her feet. God she really shouldn’t drink, it inevitably left her parched and feeling like shit.

Outside all was mostly quiet – snoring of course, but she expected that.

She couldn’t tell what time it was – about 4 or 5 would be her guess – the light already showing through the windows and glass paned door.

They’d have to clean up as soon as they’d had breakfast – no way were John Paul and Craig staying in this mess. Still it wasn’t too bad – Sharon always ran a clean house – just booze and bits of food to worry about – no drugs (or worse).

Nice house, Sharon had done a good job. She was confident her brother would be happy here. She only hoped the flat in Dublin would be as nice.

Half asleep she’d stumbled into the room before she was even aware of what was going on. Clearly they were trying to be quiet. Well yeah, sneaking off though she’d done her best to keep them apart. Sometimes she felt that the mobile phone was the worse invention ever!

Well she hadn’t ever wanted to see her brother –any of her siblings - having sex, but what could you do? A part of her was definitely a little curious to see how gay men did it.

Well she certainly now had a pretty good idea of one of the ways they did ‘it’. And she’d had no idea John Paul was quite so...athletic. And Craig had hairy thighs...

She really would have thought that hurt, but by the sounds he was making and the – no she had not just seen her brother’s sausage in Craig’s hand – it was hurting really, really good.

She retraced her steps, carefully closed the door and crept quietly back up the stairs.

She checked John Paul’s bed; sneaky little bugger had arranged it to look like he was still there. Cheeky little sod.

**

 

It took them an hour to come back up stairs, another 10 in the shower and then by the sound of it more kissing in the hallway.

She closed her eyes when she saw the door quietly open, still debating with herself whether or not to let him know she had seen them. It wasn’t her way to keep that sort of thing to herself but though she was okay with it she had a feeling that he wouldn’t be. Not on his behalf but on Craig’s. So she let him sneak back to his bed, thanking god he’d had the sense to shower first.

She’d just have to do her best to forget what she’d seen, but it wasn’t going to be easy. John Paul was right: she did see him as her little baby brother, not really accepting he’d grown up. This morning had changed all that. She’d never seen them as _men_ before. Now she did. The way Craig had been kissing John Paul; chin, neck, shoulders, chest, pulling back her brother’s head and flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth, other hand marking him on belly and torso with insistent nails, well that was no boy there, but an experienced man who knew exactly how to please his lover. And John Paul lost in it, the pleasure of it, unaware of anything or anyone else but the man holding him.

No, John Paul had grown up, no longer theirs in the way she’d always thought he would be. Unlike Mercy and Teen who were still more McQueens than they were Russ and Dom’s wives John Paul was less a McQueen now than Craig’s lover, Craig his first priority now - always. That had been made crystal clear to her during that little talk they’d had. No he hadn’t said as such, but reading between the lines and seeing them making love (even for that one brief moment) had brought it very strongly home to her. 

John Paul was Craig’s now.

Yeah it did sadden her a little, but not like they were actually _losing_ the little bugger who if he’d just settle for one minute into sleep (instead of daydreaming about bloody Craig) would allow her to get herself that fucking drink!

 

 

**

 

“Good luck, mate.” Russ and Dom shook their hands, looking like they wanted the ground to open up and swallow them, visibly willing the taxi to come into the front hall.

“Oh how about a hug lads? We’re all family now.”

“Jacqui!” Her mum wasn’t in the best of moods, it obviously finally getting through to her that her baby was leaving home, wouldn’t ever be coming home to stay again. She’d wake up now and he wouldn’t be there, go to sleep and he wouldn’t be there. Oh he’d be just round the corner – for now - but soon enough he’d be living in another country, a body of water and hundreds of miles separating them. “Get in the taxi, boys.” She was looking at John Paul and Craig and hardly spared the others a second glance. She hugged John Paul then took Craig by the hands. “Craig I know you probably don’t want to hear this – I know what you boys are like – but I am so glad you’re part of this family. I know that lately life hasn’t been too kind, but I hope you know that we’ll always be there for you – when times are good and when they’re not. It’d make me the happiest-“

“Come on, mum.” She took her by the arm. “They’re moving into a new house, not tying the bloody knot. Come on, get in the car.” She winked at John Paul’s mouthed ‘thank you’ as she handed her mum off to Carmel. “Well.” She looked them over – yep a few tell tale marks on John Paul’s neck, the hand at Craig’s waist showing a scratch here and there that she was pretty certain hadn’t been in evidence before they’d all retired for the night. Craig looked much the same as always – perhaps a little more cat that got the cream than usual, still, lately whenever he’d been around John Paul that look _had_ been in evidence so not _that_ much different from normal then. “You’re all alone – your own place, your own lives, no-one to answer to. It’s for real.”

“Yeah Jacq we know and I’m not going to pretend it’s not scary, but it’s also exciting and fantastic and we can’t bloody wait.”

“Oh I bet.” She made a show of listening at the wall adjoining the house next door, rapped a knuckle against it. “Hmmm, walls are fairly thick, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Yeah, yeah whatever, Jacq.” He and Craig exchanged a look, Craig’s amused, his exasperated. “Will you lot please just give it a rest? Yes we have an active sex life and no we are – neither of us are – ashamed of that. So shut up about it and the next person who mentions sausages will get her head ducked – in the toilet.”

“So I guess we’ll never see sausage and chips served at your house then.”

“Jacq...”

“Oh Okay; I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Craig, walk me to the car?” Not waiting for his answer she began a slow walk down the path, not surprised to find him by her side a second later. She glanced at his face, then linked her arm with his. “You like the house?”

“It’s great. Really generous of Sharon to let us live here.”

“Well John Paul’s pretty special to us all, not much we wouldn’t do for him.”

“I know.”

“Which means loving you too, soft lad.” She stopped, turned to him, taking his hands in hers much the way her mum had done. “Don’t worry, no soppy speeches. Just... look after him. I don’t need to tell you how much he thinks of you, just show him the same care and consideration as I know he’ll show you. I know it’s easy when someone loves you that much to take it for granted, but don’t. It isn’t something that comes along every day and when you lose it you’ll realise just how rare it really is. I don’t need your word on it, just _think_ about it okay? Right.” She let him go, turned with a wave to the waiting, very curious John Paul. “See you in a few weeks. And hey,” she pulled him close, whispered in his ear. “He’s only got the one sausage – got to last him for life – don’t wear it out.” She stepped into the car; laughed when she saw him laughing, blew him then her brother a kiss...


End file.
